Mary, Did You Know?
by Alantie Mistaniu
Summary: Did Mary know the truth? How much did she really know about her little Sammy? Maybe more than we ever could have thought.


A/N:I've had this idea for a while, but last night's episode practically confirmed it for me, so I decided to give it a try. I hope you enjoy this first chapter!!

Disclaimer: Supernatural is in no way mine- as much as I wish Sam belonged to me. . .

Mary, Did You Know?

Chapter1: John

John sat quietly on Missouri's couch, listening to her tell him everything Sam had told her about what had happened the previous night. About Mary. He hardly dared to breathe, fearing that if he did, he would break down into tears, which was not something a professional hunter would do. He had so long perfected the iron core of control around himself, not allowing himself to be weak, but thinking about Mary and what had almost happened to the boys broke him apart. It took him to days past, when there were no demons, no idea of the things that lurked in the dark. The days when Mary was still alive.

She had loved being a mother. Raising Dean was her greatest joy, and having another child was exactly what she had wanted. Sam had been such a blessing to her, he saw it in her eyes the minute their brand new son was placed in her arms. She had fairly glowed, touching Sammy's dark hair with fingers that trembled. They had been told that Mary couldn't have any more children, so this little boy was a special blessing, especially considering the difficult birth. She had loved Sam with all her heart; she loved both of their sons, and John could still remember the expression on her face as Dean had held Sam for the first time. Her eyes were so full of warmth and love, he could practically feel it radiating from her, and she had never looked more beautiful to him as she had in that moment.

Yet something had been subtly different. It wasn't something John could ever put his finger on, but there was a difference in the way Mary was with Sam than she was with Dean. It wasn't anything he could flat out say. It wasn't that he thought Sam was more special to Mary than Dean. He knew full well that Mary loved both her boys with all her heart. Thinking back now, John wondered if perhaps, somehow, Mary had known what was coming, if she had known about Sam. He didn't know how that could be, but somehow, deep down, he knew she had known something.

There were times he would awaken in the dead of night to a cold, empty space beside him. Groggy and disoriented, John would discover Mary in Sam's nursery, for no reason at all. She would be standing there, watching him sleep, as if she was protecting him from something. He thought it was just a new mother's anxiety, especially for a child who almost wasn't born at all. He assumed it would pass in time. Then he noticed other things. Seemingly, small, innocent things that back then had seemed like nothing, but now he could see how they might not have been so much so. Her anxiety about strangers coming up to her to coo over the baby was odd- with Dean she had been proud to show her child off, carefree and unworried. But with Sam, he could see the faint unease in her eyes whenever someone stopped to admire the newborn. It had puzzled John, but he simply chalked it off as over protectiveness of an experienced mother and soon forgot about it. Mary was also reluctant to leave the boys home with a babysitter, even ones that they had known for years. He just couldn't understand it.

"Honey, is everything alright?" he had asked her one afternoon at a neighborhood barbeque after she had politely refused the attempts of a friend to hold the baby for awhile.

"Sure, why wouldn't it be?" she responded, though her gaze was fixed on the sleeping infant in her arms.

"You wouldn't let Amanda hold Sammy," he pointed out. "She's been Dean's babysitter for years. I think she knows how to hold a baby."

Mary managed to tear her eyes from her son, looking up at him. "I didn't want to disturb him. You know he's been sleeping poorly this week." She looked back down at Sam, running gentle fingers over his soft brown hair.

John sat down in the folding chair beside her, sliding an arm around his wife's shoulders. "You've been so distant, Mary, ever since Sam was born. Is there something bothering you? Something you want to tell me?"

For a moment, those azure eyes met his, and he caught a glimpse of raw worry and fear, but before he could be sure, it was gone as she smiled brilliantly, shaking her golden head slightly. "Its nothing. Just new mother anxiety. I'm fine, John."

A week later, as he sat on the hood of a car, staring at his burning house with Dean clinging to his arm and Sam held tightly against his chest, John could only wish he had pressed her harder that day for an answer, so he wouldn't be tormenting himself with a single question. It was a question that stalked his waking thoughts for years to come. _'Mary, did you know?'_


End file.
